


Tiny Balls of Toasted Marshmallow Fluff That Will Use the Lap of Your Therapist as a Launchpad so They Can Cannonball Into Your Chest

by EtchCantrellorLightningHeterodyne



Category: Sharp Zero (Webcomic)
Genre: Alex and his therapist have an odd dynamic, But it works for both of them, Completely fluff, Gen, Mostly Dialogue, Slightly Genuine Threats of Murder, So they keep it, Sweetness and light, sunshine and rainbows, this fic gave me diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtchCantrellorLightningHeterodyne/pseuds/EtchCantrellorLightningHeterodyne
Summary: Lil short drabble about how Alex got Jet. Cuteness and more cuteness interspersed with banter.





	Tiny Balls of Toasted Marshmallow Fluff That Will Use the Lap of Your Therapist as a Launchpad so They Can Cannonball Into Your Chest

Alex walked into his therapist’s office, sitting in his usual spot on the couch, rubbing his palms together. Said therapist followed him in, taking their usual spot in the chair across from him.

“So, Alexander.”

“Yes?”

“You currently lack a will to live.”

“We established that last time.”

They checked their notes, and looked back up at him.

“We’re getting you a dog.”

Alex almost fell off the couch.

“ _ WHAT _ !?”

 

~

 

A week later, Alex was again walking into his therapist’s office.

“Have you decided on a breed yet?”

“I’m not getting a dog.”

“Well, it’s a dog or me sending you to a psychiatrist so you can stuff yourself with drugs.”

“...is there any other option?”

“Considering the fact that you’ve apparently decided to stop making progress with your mental health, no.”

“What about… like… fish.”

“Alex, I’ve known you for seven years. They’d fucking die.”

He rolled his eyes, flopping back against the couch. His therapist raised an eyebrow- the classic ‘really you’re gonna be a drama queen at me’ expression they’d seemingly worn exclusively for the last seven years.

“ _ Why _ did  _ mom _ have to pick the therapist in ninth grade?”

“Because if your father had, whoever you got stuck with would have bought you a cat.”

“I’m allergic.”

“I know. They wouldn’t.”

“Well-”

“You’d be bored with anyone else and you know it.”

“...”

 

~

 

“Pick a breed. Or a shelter. I don’t care. Just pick a goddamn dog.”

“I don’t. Want. A dog.”

“Then  _ I’ll _ pick one! Good lord I can’t wait till you move to New York or some shit…”

Alex folded his arms and grinned.

“You’d be bored with anyone else and you know it.”

His therapist’s glare was murderous, and extremely satisfying to see.

 

~

 

“You’re getting a therapy dog.”

“ _ I’m not getting a dog _ .”

“It’ll be a puppy.”

“ _ I’M NOT GETTING A DOG.” _

“If I can’t force you to take care of yourself then I have to get something that will. Grab your jacket.”

“I just got here. This session is three hours long, per  _ your _ request.”   
“Of course it is. We could hardly go dog shopping in one.”

“I’M NOT GETTING A FUCKING DOG.”

“Grab your damn jacket.”

 

~

 

In the end, having scoured every shelter with therapy dogs but one, Alex was fairly sure they were going to give up and go home, which was fine by him.   
Of course, his therapist was  _ still _ making him go to the last one, because  _ of course they were _ .

“How about this one?” 

The black lab was actually reasonably cute.

But Alex was not getting a dog.

“No.”

His therapist pretty much  _ growled _ \- confirming his tenth grade theory that they were the spawn of Satan (even if they  _ had _ been a good influence, which was a secret Alex would take to his grave, though he knew they knew it too)- and gently set the lab down, walking to check the last of the therapy puppies (Alex was pretty sure they were the ones that had failed training. He was also pretty sure his therapist didn’t care as long as the dog he got could magically sense depression and come sit on his lap).

His therapist was kneeling next to the last pen, when a small ball of fluff rocketed out of it, used their thighs as a launchpad, and hurled itself into Alex’s chest. This, of course, knocked him flat on his ass- though he made sure the fluff landed on top of him, because Alex may not be very cushy but he was cushier than the concrete floor.

When he opened his eyes, the cutest german shepherd he’d ever seen was barking at him and panting (and Alex could feel it’s tail wagging against his chest) and generally looked very pleased with itself.

It was a puppy. It was a small, cute, intelligent puppy that could magically sense depression.

When Alex lifted his head and saw his therapist triumphantly forging his signature on the sign-this-single-form-and-get-a-dog paper (and he had, actually, told them that if they  _ could _ successfully forge it without him stopping them, he’d get whatever dog the signature was for. Well, he’d keep it) and then looked back at the very happy, heart-meltingly cute ball of slightly toasted marshmallow fluff, he knew.

He was getting a dog.

“His name is Jet.”

“What?”

“The dog that is sitting on your chest. His name is Jet. And he loves you, and can magically sense depression, and you shook on the deal we made about signatures, so Jet is now your dog.”

“...okay.”

He probably had the biggest fucking smile on his face as he reached up to scratch Jet’s ears. His therapist was probably grinning bemusedly.

As Jet licked his hand and then (before Alex could stop him) his chin, Alex found he didn’t care.

 

~

 

Danny was very happy to hear that Alex got a dog.

So was pretty much everyone else, besides Eli who would probably die mad about the fact that Alex could find happiness (then again, Alex would probably die mad about the fact that Eli could find happiness too, so they were pretty much even).

And, when Alex next went in to see his therapist, Jet was panting happily on Alex’s lap, and his therapist sighed, rubbing at their temples.

“Well, at least you’re taking care of yourself too. Just… you know…”

“What?”

“Make sure I don’t steal him.”

“I’d kill you if you tried.”

“For all the threats of murder we’ve both made over the years, that might be the only genuine one either of us has heard.”

 

~Fin


End file.
